


The Sexual Escapades of an Angel and his Demon

by JayEz



Series: The Good Fight Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional scenes, Angel/Demon Sex, Demon!Dean, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, PWP, black eye kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additional scenes to “The Good Fight”. Mostly porn featuring demon!Dean and Castiel, with a little bit of plot (and, for some reason, strange amounts of fluff).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes will be what screenwriters call “darlings”, which always end up cut from the script since these scenes don’t further conflicts or drive the plot. In this case, it will mostly be PWP moments or fluff that would never make it onto the show, even if Destiel became canon. Long live fanfiction! And my filthy imagination!
> 
> Unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my own. Enjoy :)

*

*

Prolonged exposure to humanity might have helped Castiel with his now slightly less rusty people skills, yet nothing in any plane of existence could have prepared him for this situation. 

For what is the appropriate social conduct when your long-time friend, who saved your life and whose you guarded with yours in return until one day you failed yet he still went on – what is the appropriate behavior when this friend breaks the tension between you and kisses you? How are you to react when kissing leads to more and it feels like nothing you have ever experienced in all your millennia in Heaven and on Earth? 

These things don’t come easy to Castiel, now ever more so since coherent thought is, frankly, a challenge at the moment, images of black eyes and freckled skin covered by a sheen of sweat leaving his head reeling. 

And apparently, one reaction to the levee finally breaking is taking off and leaving. 

Which Dean did just moments ago, climbing off and gathering his clothes, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. 

He swallows, forcing himself to move, draw up his pants and attempt to tuck in his shirt. Only there are buttons missing – yes, Dean was in a hurry, so quick as if he needed to touch Castiel’s skin more than he needed to live. 

Maybe he did. Maybe he left because he realized he had made a mistake. Maybe he left because he doesn’t talk about feelings. ‘Chick flick moments’, Castiel thinks he calls them. 

As he fixes the buttons on his shirt, trying to use up as little power as possible, it occurs to Castiel that he should, all things consider, have negative or at least mixed feelings regarding what transpired tonight. 

Dean is, after all, a demon. Diminishing grace or not, Castiel is an angel… 

But he is still standing, isn’t he? Well, there is no one around to smite him. Also, why? Why would his Father punish him for something that felt so good, so _right_?

So right and good, in fact, that Castiel needs it to happen again. 

Castiel groans out loud in the empty room, rubbing his hands across his face. He wants to do so much more. Everything he can think of now that the knowledge of books and movies is etched into his mind. Has an entire list of things he wants to do with Dean. Always thought he would, one day, start off small and work his way to more intimate interactions. 

Well. 

Castiel smirks despite himself. He doubts Dean would have indulged Castiel that much before he became a demon. 

He shakes his head forcefully, hoping it will chase these thoughts away but to no avail. So Castiel doesn’t dwell any more on this; instead he fixes his clothes and walk to the sigil he drew, scratches the dried blood to deactivate it. He figures human authorities shall want to investigate. A glance towards the body of the woman confirms that Dean took his blade with him before he left. 

Castiel steals outside, ducks the police officers already scattered outside. An ambulance is on standby and near the vehicle he spies Sam. 

“Cas, oh my god, what happened?” 

He muses it might be safe to assume that Sam is not referring to the sexual encounter his brother and Castiel just shared. 

“Dean had to kill the vessel along with the demon. Yet at least as of now it won’t hurt anyone else.”

Sam’s face falls. “Where is he?”

“Not with me. I had to deactivate a sigil to let the police inside once they decided to proceed.”

“Probably waiting at the car. Or back at the bunker…”

“You should find him.”

Sam looks on in confusion for a moment before shaking his head. “Of course, you’ll need to get back upstairs. Metatron’s still on the loose.”

Castiel inclines his head and walks off, doing exactly that. He checks in with his garrisons, with Hannah and Kemuel, coordinates his troops but when he has the chance to return to Earth, he opens a portal over Lebanon, Kansas. 

He could call. 

He could simply visit the bunker. 

Or he could linger outside, too uncertain of what is socially acceptable and what is not. 

Lebanon is busy in the late afternoon hours. Castiel can hear noise from the city, cars and people, going about their day without knowledge of the bunker’s existence in their middle. Thus no one sees Castiel when he paces near the door, weighing his options without any idea of how to determine the right course of action. Ho do humans do this on a daily basis?

A sudden noise startles him and he spins quickly, his angel blade falling into his hand. 

He is not prepared for the sight of Dean. Dean, wearing a plaid shirt and his leather jacket, looking equally startled by his presence, hand on the blade at his hip, ready to draw when necessary at inhuman speed. 

“Cas? What the hell’re you doing here?”

Castiel can but squint since he doesn’t know the answer to this question either. 

A flicker of emotion transforms Dean’s face for the briefest moment. It is too quick for Castiel to decipher and a moment later, Dean has schooled his expression again. Castiel doesn’t know how he must look, which feelings his countenance projects. 

“I thought you’d – never mind.”

“What did you think?” Castiel takes a tentative step forward. 

Dean huffs, running a hand through his hair and Castiel can see the freckles in the afternoon sun. The silence stretches as he considers Dean, traces his jaw with his eyes, marvels at the straight posture and the slight bow of his legs until Castiel hears him swallow. 

“I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

“Why?” The notion is confusing. Castiel never indicated any such intention. 

“After… Jeez, Cas, you really gonna make me spell it out?”

Castiel looks on for there is nothing else he can think of. He has no idea what Dean is referring to. 

“So you don’t regret the, uh, the _thing_ we did?” 

“It was wonderful.” 

Dean jerks back a little, eyes wide. He seems surprised, yet why would he? Before he can voice his concerns, however, Dean’s expression morphs. Gone is the confusion, instead his lips curl into a smirk Castiel might even describe as lewd. 

He approaches, strides wide and intention-fueled, until Dean is maybe two steps in front of him. 

“You liked it?” 

“Of course,” Castiel replies softly. Why does Dean need to ask? Wasn’t it obvious? 

“You liked having me on your lap?” Dean’s voice is lower now, close to a purr and Castiel drinks in every syllable as it washes over him. “Like me ride you, take you like that?”

Hot breath ghosting over his cheeks. Dean is close now, close enough to touch, kiss, claim once more. 

Castiel gives into the impulse and brings his hand up to caress Dean’s cheek, his throat going dry when Dean leans into the touch. 

“I liked everything.”

Dean’s eyes blink open and meet his, brilliantly green and sincere. “Everything?” he echoes. 

“With you – everything.” 

It doesn’t come close to articulate the complex feelings inside Castiel’s chest, too layered and intertwined for any angel to process, yet it will have to do for now. Until Castiel learns how to do it better. 

And until then, Castiel thinks he should let his actions speak for him. 

It is him who closes the distance between them this time, pressing their lips together. The kiss is different, the urgency of last night gone, less teeth and more languid movements of tongue. Dean is a wonderful kisser, better than Castiel ever dared to imagine in his most private hours. 

They are moving, Dean walking Castiel backwards yet it barely registers as Castiel’s hands wind themselves around Dean’s torso and pull him in until their chests collide just as Castiel’s back makes contact with a tree. 

Dean doesn’t withdraw, crowding him against the wood and maybe there is a pun in there somewhere if Castiel had any capacity for original thought left since he can feel Dean’s growing erection press against his own. 

Castiel untucks the fabric, then sneaks his hands underneath the shirt, fingertips brushing over skin to simply feel. Goosebumps erupt where he touches while Dean starts moving his hips, rutting their groins together teasingly until they have built a rhythm that ties in perfectly with the dance of their tongues. 

Ages seem to pass before Dean pulls back, breath coming in gasps. His hips cease their movement but Dean looks down, his forehead coming to rest against Castiel’s, and slowly, strong hands glide down Castiel’s chest until they reach his fly. 

He watches Dean release him from the confines of his clothes and move on to his own belt buckle. Castiel wants to see what Dean is going to do so he keeps up the light caress of his fingers underneath Dean’s shirt until Dean’s cock springs free, flushed and wet at the crown. 

So many possibilities and Castiel can’t decide which is best, all bleeding into one another inside his head. 

“This’ll feel great, Cas,” Dean promises, shuffling closer, one hand on Castiel’s hip and the other on his erection. 

A gasp escapes him as Dean’s cock brushes against his own and doesn’t withdraw – Dean wraps his hand around both shafts and simply lets them touch for a moment, silky smooth skin against silky smooth skin. Castiel notices his own erection is slightly bigger where Dean’s has more girth. He wonders if this is important to Dean but it doesn’t look like it is. 

The hunter is mesmerized, eyes on both their cocks resting against each other and gradually the urge to move begins to override Castiel’s self control, yet he holds out, watches Dean simply look for a while. 

When he moves his hand, colors erupt in front of Castiel’s eyes and his entire body shivers. 

“Dean,” he moans, voice almost too loud in the secluded space. 

“Told you it’ll feel good.” Castiel’s eyes have fallen shut on their own accord but he can hear the smirk in Dean’s tone. 

“Hold on.” Dean’s hand slips from Castiel’s hip, leaving the spot cold and lonely, but it replaces Dean’s right one on their cocks while that hand comes up between them. Dean opens his mouth and licks his palm, coating it with saliva until Castiel understands what it is for. 

When Dean eventually grips their erections again, it is impossibly better, his strokes eased by the slippery residue Dean’s tongue left. 

Without making the conscious decision to move, Castiel surges forward, claiming Dean’s mouth and sucking on his bottom lip. He swallows Dean’s moan when it bubbles to the surface, low and heart-felt, and pulls the man closer, raking both arms around him beneath his leather jacket. 

The sensations are incredible – Dean kisses with his entire body, chest rubbing against Castiel’s while his hand moves with strong strokes up and down their shafts. The first time Dean swipes his thumb across the slits, gathering the precome that has accumulated there, comes as a surprise and Castiel’s hips jerk with it. 

“Oh yeah,” Dean breathes into his mouth, altering the angle, twisting his hand when he strokes down, gaining momentum. 

Then Dean’s fingers tighten, zeroing in on the spot where the glans meets the shaft and just works it, over and over again with tiny movements that send sparks of pleasure up Castiel’s spine, flowing out in a whimper. It is intense and incredible, unlike anything he has ever felt and he never wants to end. 

“Dean,” is all he manages but he must have understood for he keeps working that spot until Castiel has to tear his mouth away and rest his head on Dean’s shoulder, nonsensical sounds spilling from his mouth. 

He feels the vibrations of a groan against the side of his head, feels Dean’s throat move as he gasps and Castiel wants to hear more sounds like it, wants to be the one to cause them. Encouraged he moves his right hand and touches Dean’s slit, spreading the fluid he finds there. 

Dean shudders deliciously and Castiel wants more. He toys with the tip, Dean’s hand still moving up and down their lengths, drinks in every gasp and every tiny moan until he focuses on the other end of Dean’s cock. His testicles are dusted in hair and soft to his touch when he places two fingers on either side. 

Castiel massages them, first one, then the other, finally cups them both in the palm of his hand and Dean goes wild against him, twisting so hard he almost breaks rhythm. 

“Fuuuck,” he growls, the vowel long and deep, his chest rumbling against Castiel’s. 

Suddenly all Castiel can think of is watching Dean unravel, loosing himself to pleasure, so he doesn’t stop, keeps his hand right where it is and places his other on Dean’s cock. 

“Holy…” is all Dean manages to gasp before he throws his head back, bracing himself on Castiel’s shoulders while Castiel experiments, tries to determine what Dean likes, what will elicit the most intense reactions. 

He jerks Dean fast and hard, grip tight, thumb swiping over the crown with every other stroke. Adding a twist on the downward stroke makes Dean hiss in pleasure, palming his testicles while Castiel’s fingers ghost over the skin behind them draw a shudder and a low moan from him. 

“I want to see you, Dean,” he tells him, barely recognizing his own voice. “I want to you come from my hands on your cock.” 

Dean forces his eyes open then, staring at Castiel with blown pupils and his mouth agape. Castiel holds his gaze, keeps jerking Dean’s cock, keeps massaging his balls, keeps twisting his hand just _so_ and Castiel can see the moment in Dean’s eyes when the orgasm builds because the green recedes, black taking over as Dean comes in long, hot bursts between their bodies, stripes hitting Castiel’s shirt and coat. 

It is the most amazing sight and Castiel wants to memorize it, never ever forget how Dean’s face contorts in the throws of pleasure. His lips are parted by a silent moan, eyes succumbing to the urge to close them as he tilts his neck back, baring his throat. 

Castiel’s own erection twitches where it has been abandoned, heavy and hot between his legs but Castiel’s hands are still on Dean, milking him through the aftershocks, gradually slowing his ministrations as the shudders die down and Dean’s head falls to his shoulder. 

“Fuck, Cas…” 

The awe in Dean’s voice draws out a triumphant smirk as he relishes the feeling of Dean’s breath against his neck. 

“Dean –“

“Yeah, just catching my breath, jeez, where did you learn how to, fuuck…” 

Castiel can’t help the chuckles Dean’s incoherence provokes. It almost makes him giddy, how easy this feels between them, any worry about Dean fleeing again evaporated in the heat of their encounter. 

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet, mister,” Dean drawls with a raised eyebrow as he finally pulls back. He glances down and the familiar cocky grin in place when he finds Castiel’s eyes again. “Need some help with that?”

“That would be much appreciated,” is Castiel’s reply which for some reason makes Dean laugh. 

Then suddenly Dean is gone, no longer at eye-level. Castiel stares down as Dean drops to his knees on the cold ground, a dangerous glint in those green eyes. Dean licks his lips, slowly and deliberate, making a show out of it mere inches away from Castiel’s leaking erection. 

Castiel swallows, sees how Dean traces the movement briefly before focusing his attention on Castiel’s groin. A calloused hand around his shaft, wet with saliva again. Dean doesn’t move it, just holds his cock and labs at the tip, flicking his eyes upwards to where he knows Castiel is watching, grateful for the tree behind him for he doubts his feet would have held him upright at that point. 

Dean doesn’t break eye contact, not when he wraps his lips around the glans, not when he flattens his tongue on the underside of his cock, not when he takes Castiel as far as he can until the tip hits the back of his throat. Dean makes a show of it, his movements slow and deliberate, stretching his lips around Castiel’s length and bobbing his head. 

He pulls off with a soft _pop_ , uses his hand to rub the cock against his lips, still slightly bruised from kissing. The sight is obscene. When Dean leans forward and buries his nose in Castiel’s groin, breathing in his scent, the scruff of Dean’s cheeks scrapes the shaft. Castiel jumps, not expecting the strange mix of pain and pleasure it causes as his cock grows harder still. 

He can feel Dean’s smile against his skin as he places his hands on Castiel’s hips, pressing him against the trunk and keeping him there. The image Dean makes is incredible, on his knees in front of him, holding him down with Castiel’s flushed erection curving upwards. Dean doesn’t avert his eyes as he dives in, swallowing Castiel down in one smooth movement.

He is building a rhythm in earnest now, forgoing the teasing, and every time Dean takes him he goes deeper, pushes his head more onto Castiel’s cock until he can feel the muscles in Dean’s throat flutter against the tip. 

A moan escapes Castiel as his eyes fall shut and a hand twists its way into Dean’s hair. He hums around his cock, which Castiel interprets as approval, so he keeps his hand there, grip light until Dean takes him further again and swallows around his cockhead. 

The sound Castiel makes is not human. Dean seems to like it since he repeats the action, takes him deep and works his throat, again and again until Castiel forgets his own name, let alone his ability to form words or even syllables. 

He forces his eyes open again, groans when he sees the flush on Dean’s cheeks and how red his lips have become.

As if Dean can feel Castiel’s gaze on him he glances up without ceasing his movements. On an upward twist when only the tip of Castiel’s cock is between Dean’s lips, his mouth curls into a grin that doesn’t bode well. 

Dean swallows him to the hilt then, nose brushing against Castiel’s groin, and just _stays there_ , staring up while Castiel shudders uncontrollably, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. Dean works his throat in the exact moment his eyes turn black and it is too much. Castiel looses the shreds of his control as his orgasm takes over, making him spill his release down Dean’s throat and tighten the grip on his hair.

The world blurs for a moment as Castiel simply breathes, waiting for it to rearrange itself. 

He barely registers that Dean is pulling his pants up for him, tucking in the shirt and doing up the fly before he straightens up, grinning like some proverbial animal that got the cream. Or the canary – Castiel neither knows nor cares at this point. 

All he cares about is kissing Dean, kissing that smirk right off him. It hits him that he is tasting himself on Dean’s tongue, the realization like an electric shock shooting through his body. 

They remain like this, trading passionate kisses until a bird chirps somewhere in the vicinity and suddenly their surroundings return with full force. 

Dean withdraws first, bruised lips already starting to heal despite the renewed kissing. 

“Come back tonight,” Dean whispers, his voice hoarse from their activities, “around two in the morning. Sammy’s mostly asleep by then.”

Castiel doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dean’s eyes are warm as he acknowledges Castiel’s reaction with a wink. He blinks out of existence to who-knows-where and Castiel leans his head back against the tree with a contented sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out softer than I expected *sighing-like-the-closeted-sap-that-I-am* 
> 
> I live on air and comments, so don’t be shy to let me know what you thought :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr - [multifandom-madnesss](http://multifandom-madnesss.tumblr.com/) | [jayez-fanfiction](http://jayez-fanfic.tumblr.com/)


	2. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the goddamn apocalypse so if Dean wants to take Cas out to dinner, sue him, alright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in the mood for Destiel porn/fluff so here goes :) This is set between chapters 16 and 17 of The Good Fight.

*

*

That first night after Michael fell they toss books until Cas’ head slumps forward and he falls asleep right at the table. Dean can’t help but smile at that as he’s rubbing his tired eyes and soldiers on, turning another page.

He wakes up four hours later and discovers he’s gone and drooled all over the probably pretty rare and expensive encyclopedia while he was out, though Cas ain’t doing much better. 

That day passes with too much caffeine, too many snarky remarks from Crowley to keep ‘em sane and barely edible food from the pantry. It falls to Dean to cook, which isn’t helping his mood at all ‘cause it reminds him too much of Sammy and how he used to cook for him when he was little. 

When the clock pushes past midnight and Cas starts yawning again, Dean puts his foot down. 

“We’re going to bed, for real. None of this ‘napping with a head on the table’ crap, alright?”

“Dean, we haven’t –“

“Yeah, I know we ain’t got nothing yet, Cas, but if we’re burning the candle at both ends then we’re never gonna get anywhere. Humans need rest and even I need a couple ‘o hours of shut-eye every now and again.”

“He just wants to get your knickers off,” is Crowley’s unhelpful contribution, which Dean blatantly ignores. 

In the end he gets Cas into bed and pulls him close to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Dean, I’m afraid I’m too tired for –“ Cas begins but Dean shushes him with a slight shake of his head. 

“Not everything’s about sex, Cas.” 

Something melts in Cas’ eyes then, the blue suddenly softer than before, though Dean cuts that thought off ‘cause he doesn’t need to be gushing like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

His throat tightens despite his best efforts, though, especially when Cas smiles tentatively and huddles closer, placing his head on Dean’s chest. His arm tightens around the former angel and he wills his heart to slow down or else Cas might hear it through his skin. 

Dean’s out like a light soon enough and when he wakes up a few hours later it’s to find Cas draped across him and something that’s definitely morning wood poking him in the hip. 

Never one to waste an opportunity like this (it’s not Cas’ first sleep boner, but it’s still new enough for the guy to warrant special attention), Dean shifts until he can roll Cas onto his back without waking him up. Cas is sleeping shirtless so Dean has an expanse of pale skin to explore. 

He traces the sternum with his tongue, kisses each nipple before sliding lower, carefully dipping his tongue into Cas’ navel and burying his nose in the coarse hair dusting the area. The happy trail leads him down, down until a pair of dark blue briefs is in the way. 

Dean takes his time, mouthing at the erection through the fabric, delighting in the small sounds that rumble in Cas’ chest at the stimulation. He’ll wake up soon and Dean wants him to look down and find Dean’s lips wrapped around his cock, so he moves things along, pulling the underwear off gently and sucking the tip of Cas into his mouth. 

He keeps the pressure soft, almost tentative, casting frequent glances up to check the other man’s expression. It’s when Dean starts massaging the balls as well that Cas starts returning to the realm of the living. 

“Dean!” he gasps when he realizes what’s happening and Dean chuckles around the flesh in his mouth. He twists his tongue to massage the underside of the glans, eliciting something that’s positively a whelp and makes Cas grip his hair. 

He’s never given such an unhurried blowjob in his life and it’s amazing – pulling off and then tracing the vein down the shaft, sucking a testicle into his mouth, then licking his way up again and swallowing him down as far as possible, then repeating the process. Dean adds pressure and uses his hands, tongues the slit and brushes a finger across Cas’ hole, until he’s drunk from the whines and desperate moans, not to mention the musky smell of Cas’ arousal. 

The tightening grip in his hair is the first sign that Dean’s succeeding in breaking Cas’ control and he finally allows himself to shove a hand down his own pajamas, coordinating the speed of his strokes with the rhythm of his mouth. 

Cas finds release first, barely coherent enough to give Dean a warning, though he doesn’t mind, just drinks down every drop of Castiel’s come and feels his own climax approaching. 

Cas’ smile is blinding when Dean opens his eyes again. 

“I like this kind of wake-up call.”

Dean “hm”s contentedly and decides to hit the shower before he falls asleep again. Cas joins him, although the official reason is “preserving water and time”. 

Yeah, right. 

*

The idea comes to Dean when he’s preparing sandwiches with Cas – ‘cause the world might be ending but making a kickass BLT is a skill everyone needs to muster before the lights blow out. 

“The preparation of food constitutes kinship in many cultures,” Cas remarks as he arranges bacon on slice of bread. 

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. Did he miss that it’s Factoid Day? 

“Sometimes people who eat food cooked on the same hearth are not allowed to marry since they are considered siblings.”

“So what about dates? You mean you can’t cook for ‘em or you’ll end up related?”

“You cannot apply Western principle of courtship rituals to customs from other spheres, Dean.”

“Oh, right. Don’t forget the lettuce, Cas. It’s BLT, not BT.”

Cas frowns down at his salad-free design and pulls the top off again, adds the greens and then puts it together again, presenting it to Dean with a smile. 

“Looks great,” Dean says and he means it. 

It’s when he puts away the dishes after the food is gone (and after even Alex praised Cas’ attempt at cooking) that Dean’s mind circles back to ‘courtship rituals’. It’s a stupid phrase to get hung up on but he can’t help it. 

Dean’s always made sure to treat his partners right – well, maybe not the one night stands at the Triangles, or several other more, uh, _casual_ encounters. But whenever he really put the moves on someone that always included a date or two at least. Lisa even managed to drag him to the theater on one memorable occasion early on in their relationship. 

He liked all those people but… Cas is different. And to think that all Dean’s done as far as “treating him right” goes is morning blow jobs, something that might be considered cuddling if you squint, and saving his ass – though Cas has been saving him right back so that last one don’t really count. 

So he’s gonna take Cas out on a date. Nothing too fancy, just a nice dinner at that Mexican place that delivers and has a nice atmosphere. Dean digs the menu out of one of the kitchen drawers and calls to reserve a table. 

The fact that they’re in the middle of the apocalypse that Dean’s even partially responsible for and will turn into a complete catastrophe that’ll be completely his fault if he doesn’t find a way to stop it hits him when he returns to the library and sees all the books covering the tables. 

Then Cas looks up and smiles. 

Well. The world’s ending but Dean’s gonna take Cas out on a date, period. 

*

“Why would we go to a restaurant if it delivers its dishes as well?”

Of course Cas doesn’t get it when Dean tells him to change because they’re going out to the Mexican place. 

“Because, Cas. It’s what you do.”

“I have never been to a Mexican restaurant, which disproves your statement.”

Dean sighs and closes his eyes briefly. “It’s a date, Cas, come on!”

The former angel stops and tilts his head, eyes full of surprise. Dean shuffles a bit on the spot. 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you take me on a date? We are already pursuing a relationship. I was under the impression that ‘dating’ is a step on the road to achieving such a goal.”

“Yeah, but we sorta skipped that when we started all this, didn’t we? My black-eyed self was a slacker in the wooing department, you can’t deny that.”

“You don’t need to woo me, Dean,” Cas tells him sincerely, his lips curling in the faintest of smiles. 

“Hell I do, Cas! You deserve being wined and dined, so let me treat you right.”

The former angel is silent for a moment and simply watches him, yet before it starts to become uncomfortable, he blinks and nods. “Alright. Though I am unsure of what this will entail? Books on the subject aren’t too clear.”

“It’s not rocket science, Cas. We dress up a bit, sit down for a meal, talk like we always do, you try to pay but I’ll do it in the end ‘cause I’m that kinda guy and then I get you home, with an optional stroll through the moonlight.”

“Does that mean we cannot engage in coitus until the third one of such a date?”

Dean splutters a little then. “Please, don’t say ‘coitus’, Cas… And no, we don’t need to – it’s not – there’s no fixed way of doing this, Cas. We’re two grown-ass men, we can have sex whenever we like.”

Cas seems relieved to hear that, though maybe that’s just Dean’s imagination.

*

Dean and Cas decided to meet in the garage but once he’s groomed (and yes, Dean spent a panicked fifteen minutes in front of his pretty limited closet before settling on his nicest pair of jeans and a dark green button down that – so he’s been told – complements his eyes) he drops by the library to tell Alex where they’re off to. 

“You’re going on a date.” It’s not a question but more of a reproach. 

“Honey, if you want to get out of here, I’m more than happy to oblige,” Crowley comments from his seat two tables away. 

Alex’s answering glare make it very clear what she thinks about going out with the former King of Hell. 

“Your loss, darling.”

“Dean, we’re blind in the water here – apart from coordinating the Hunter Network we have absolutely nothing to show for and you want to spend the evening making doe-eyes at your boyfriend?”

“I know, but we all need a break sometime, alright? We’ll be back tomorrow, bright eyed and bushy tailed with more energy than ever.”

“Fine”, the huntress grumbles, turning away from him with more force than probably necessary. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“Oh, and boys? We won’t pick you up from the station for public indecency, just so you know!” Crowley calls after Dean before snickering into his copy. 

Dean shakes his head, grinning despite himself. 

*

Dean pulls out all the stops – he compliments his outfit (the usual dress-pants-and-shirt combo but why knock what works?), opens the passenger door for Cas, pulls out his chair and discovers himself to be somewhat nervous although he doesn’t have to win Cas over anymore. 

It’s incredibly rewarding ‘cause the former angel gets flustered by all the attention, his cheeks coloring and Dean has to exert an incredible amount of self-control to stop himself from kissing the air out of Cas’ lungs right there at the restaurant. 

Dean tells him about Crowley propositioning Alex, which leads to speculation about Crowley’s wife when he was still human and Castiel explaining about marriage customs and life of the 17th century, which then leads to Cas detailing other strange (well, to Dean at least) social protocols and conventions - Cas’ words – and before he knows it the food arrives. 

It’s amazing how easily they can hold a conversation, Dean muses. He expected at least some awkwardness since he decided not to focus on current supernatural events and he would have guessed that’d throw them for a loop regarding topics. 

“… and milk and food are all part of the cycle, it’s fascinating,” Cas concludes his explanation about the group of people he mentioned while they were making sandwiches. 

Dean shakes his head at how weird it seems to him and how heavily Cas can geek out about that stuff, including the sparkling eyes and animated hand gestures. Then suddenly, Cas freezes. 

“Oh, I’m monopolizing the conversation. I believe that is impolite, especially on a date.”

“No worries, Cas, I like listening to you. You know a shit ton of stuff, seriously.”

“Well, I watched most of these customs evolve. That spurs on one’s memory.”

Dean chuckles until his thought catch up with what he’s laughing about. Cas doesn’t often mention his past as a being of celestial intent or whatever, because everyone knows about it so there’s no need to mention it. So when he does, it catches your attention. Not that it ever slipped Dean’s mind but these past few days, pouring over books, cooking together (or Dean cooking with Castiel observing) and getting into the same bed every night… It sorta made him, well, not forget that Cas isn’t actually human but – it just felt so normal. Like they’re both two pals, hunters even. Equal. 

But they’re not. Cas is an ex-warrior of God and Dean’s the son of a bitch who broke the world. Twice. Sure, Cas made his fair share of bad choice but it still don’t change the fact that Dean is so undeserving of Cas’ attention that – 

“Dean?”

He blinks, finding intense blue eyes focused on him in worry. 

“Where did you go? You were deep in thought.”

“Oh, nothing, I’m sorry.” Dean shakes his head and redirects Cas’ attention elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what happened. I set out to write fluff and – bam! – in comes Dean’s man pain and now I’m sad. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Oh, and for those wondering about the processes of kinning – Cas is referring to the Malays of the island of Langkawi, who don’t use Western concepts of “biological” and “social” to categorize kinship.


	3. Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas find a house to squat at for the night. Alex deals with her crisis of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter in this part. I’m sorry that I didn’t have more time to write gratuitous smut or fluff, but I hope you still liked these few extra scenes :)
> 
> I’m not entirely sure why my Muse chose the lyrics that she did for this chapter. By now I’m just rolling with it…

_When all of your flaws and all of my flaws_   
_Are laid out one by one_   
_A wonderful part of the mess that we made_   
_We pick ourselves undone_

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws_   
_They lie there hand in hand_   
_Ones we’ve inherited, ones that we learned_   
_They pass from man to man_

_There’s a hole in my soul_   
_I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it_   
_There’s a hole in my soul,_   
_Can you fill it, can you fill it?_

_\- “Flaws”, Bastille_

*

*

The angel drops them somewhere in the suburbs of Washington, still close enough to the capital to get wind of any new developments but far enough away that there’s no demons patrolling the streets every two hours. 

Death’s scythe is tucked into the waistband of his jeans, a warm presence against his skin, as he takes in the neighborhood, letting out a low whistle. 

“This is the life, Cas.”

“Why?”

“Just look at these houses, man. I betcha most of them got a pool, too. Oh yeah, let’s find one with a pool,” Dean decides, motioning for Cas to follow him. 

Most of the houses are abandoned, the owners having fled long ago. These folks seem wealthy enough to own a holiday home somewhere apart from civilization. It’s dark already but the streetlights still work so Dean has some sort of idea about the houses and it only takes three tries to find one with both a pool – _on the freaking roof!_ How awesome is that? – and enough canned food to get them through a few days at least. 

“I think we require sustenance first, Dean,” Cas cautions as Dean looks out of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the first floor which provides a beautiful view of both the pool and the city at nighttime. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.”

“And I believe it is not advised to go swimming right after consuming food.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. We’ll just splash around a little. I doubt you’ve ever been in a pool, have you?”

Cas shakes his head and then follows Dean wordlessly down the staircase into the kitchen where Dean starts inspecting the pantry. Damn, they just got the scythe – they deserve a little celebration, Dean thinks as he finds some pie in the freezer. 

They cook together – or well, Dean orders Cas around a bit and it works out well enough, so soon they’re lounging on the little balcony-type thing on sun beds, eating and drinking high-end beer that Cas found hidden amongst the wine in the cellar. 

If it weren’t for the many fires they can see from their new digs, they’d even be able to forget all about the apocalypse for a bit. 

*

Alex gazes into the flames a few blocks away. It’s a smaller fire, so maybe just a burning truck rather than a house but the flames, observed apart from their destructive fore, are still beautiful. 

Her brother would have loved the view. Tyler always loved fire, whether it was a small candle in church or a big campfire with his friends. Alex tries not to think about it too much. Imagining his expression still hurts, even more so than wondering what her father would think of her now. 

Everything hinged on one stupid book and she let the demon get away, and no matter what Gabriel says, it will always be an irredeemable spot on her metaphorical rap sheet.

Gabriel. 

For all she knows the archangel is still in Lucifer’s clutches. Hannah said they’d have felt his death and they haven’t yet. 

“Gabriel,” Alex whispers, without really knowing what she is going to be praying for. “I hope you’re still able to hear me. I’m sorry that we haven’t rescued you yet, but Charlie and I are still coordinating with the hunters and angels, and helping civilians. I hate to say it but we’re loosing, Gabe. We manage to save a few every day but in the long run… Have you heard about the volcanoes in Central America yet? They say the casualties will be in the millions…”

She heaves a sigh, running a hand through her hair before hugging her knees and drawing them towards her chest. 

“I know it’s selfish but I could really use your advice right now. I’m sorry, I know you won’t want to hear my whining when you’re probably being tortured, it’s just… This whole thing is fucked up. The world’s ending but it’s so slow and I always thought God would do something – make it end faster, just flick the switch and bam – it’s Judgment Day. But that’s not going to happen, is it?” 

No one answers, not that Alex expects anyone to. 

“So yeah, I’m a little… blue right now. I don’t see the point. Why should we fight if our creator has long since abandoned ship?”

Her tone is soft and almost without inflection. There is no anger, no fury, not anymore. Alex simply doesn’t have the energy ever since that truly embarrassing breakdown in front of Charlie cost her so much. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Gabriel. I heard from Sam and Dean that you once left Heaven for a long time to live on earth, and now you’ve been forced to lead Heaven because your Father isn’t there to do it… And maybe… Maybe that’s the key. I might not see the point in fighting, but I have to do it since I’m one of the few who’re really qualified. So don’t worry, I’ll keep going. I just wish I had some answers.”

Alex draws a shuddering breath, gripping her knees tighter. 

“Anyway, thanks for listening. I hope you’re alright; even if you’re in Lucifer’s claws. Amen.”

It feels strange, closing with an ‘amen’. Not because she’s technically praying but because she’s talking to Gabriel, who is one of the most informal people both on the phone and in person that Alex knows.

A sound behind her, like a shoe scrapping over the rooftop, catches her attention and she’s immediately on her feet, knife at the ready – but it’s merely Charlie, looking like a deer caught in the headlight. 

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“No, I swear! I mean, I heard a but I actually brought you hot chocolate!” Charlie squeals, thrusting the mug into her general direction. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“I thought you could do with a little pick-me-up.”

“What I could do with is a way to kill Lucifer. Or a way to find that demon Beth.” 

“But as the philosopher Jagger once said: You can’t always get what you want.”

“He also said you might get what you need, and we both know that’s total bullshit.”

“True… but come on! Hot chocolate!”

Ales grumbles yet eventually relents to those big brown Bambi eyes the hacker keeps flashing her… only to let out a low moan when tastes the drink. 

Charlie beams. “I learnt a few tricks in Oz.”

“So it’s magical hot chocolate?”

“Very much so, sister.”

They sit in silence for a while as Alex sips the concoction with an occasional sound of pleasure escaping her. She can see Charlie’s cheeks redden slightly in the dim light of the wanning moon. 

“Anyway,” Charlie finally speaks up. “I’ve been thinking and I guess I finally have an answer for you.”

“An answer to what?”

“To this whole ‘why isn’t God flushing the world down the toilette’ dilemma.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, anyhow – I remembered that Dean, Sam and Cas, when he was still an angel with full-on mojo and all, when they were together they called themselves Team Free Will and I thought – that’s it! I guess the reason why God’s gone is because he gave us all free will, so all our actions are our own and interfering would be like, you know, cheating.”

“Huh.” Alex has to contemplate that for a bit. Charlie does have a point, at least part of one. “But what about all the suffering? The dying?”

“I hate to break it to you, Alex, but there’s always been an insane amount of suffering in the world. Genocide, civil war, honor killings, natural disasters, man-made disasters… and people’ve been crying for God for decades and he’s never answered. Why would he suddenly change his strategy only because a few more people are dying? This way we get to decide our own fate. And if we’re not strong or noble or good enough to save this friggin’ planet then maybe we deserve to have the world crash down around us. I mean, at least we know Heaven’s real, right? So there’s some hope.”

“I guess.”

“And I mean, yeah, it’s looking pretty bleak for us out there but we gotta try, right? You’re a fighter, Alex. I know you’re feeling lost now, but I’m sure you’d feel even worse giving up. I don’t think giving up is something you’re capable of.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Exactly.”

“So what’s the plan? Mind the web until the servers crash or demons smoke us out?”

“Well, I figured… we could look for that demon, whatshername, Beth?” Alex nods suspiciously. “Shouldn’t be too hard to get a handle on her and she’s pretty high up in the food chain if it was her job to get the book, which means taking her out would probably weaken Lucifer a bit… What do you say?”

“You want to help me get revenge?”

“Maybe. There’s less and less need for me on the computers.”

“Really? You never said.”

“It’s been slowly decreasing. Either the folks are dying or they’re loosing their phones and computers fleeing from the bad guys.”

For the first time today, Alex feels a smile tug at her lips. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Good. We’ll start searching tomorrow.” Charlie stops there but the look she casts Alex is sign enough that she has something else to say. 

“What?”

“I, uh… Do you need another hug?”

Alex shrugs. “Not rea- wait. Do _you_ need a hug?”

Charlie shrugs and Alex accepts it for the agreement that it is. It takes a little maneuvering but soon she has her arms wrapped around the redhead, both of them sitting comfortably near the edge, able to keep an eye on the city. 

It’s almost peaceful and Alex finds herself relaxing as the fruity smell of Charlie’s hair fills her senses. 

*

Castiel makes it his job to tidy up, carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen and return with two more beers for them. He might not care much for the beverage himself, though drinking in Dean’s company more than makes up for it.

It still cannot overshadow the fact of how tired Castiel is. The exhaustion sits deep in his bones, brought on by too many long days and too short nights. At least now, Castiel muses, they get to relax for an evening… Though apparently, Dean didn’t get the memo. Since instead of enjoying the moment and their victory, Dean sits up straighter. 

“Alright, let’s talk about our next move.”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“It’s late, we’ve had a few very stressful days with very little sleep. We’re running on fumes. Don’t you think we deserve a break?”

“Cas, for the first time since this shit started we got the upper hand! We need to figure out our next move now!”

“Fine,” Castiel snaps. “Our next move is finding Lucifer, rescuing Gabriel in case he is still alive and then killing Lucifer. And to accomplish this feat we need to rest. I’m exhausted, Dean, and I know you can’t be feeling much better.”

“I’m fine, Cas.”

“You’d be running on adrenaline if we faced anyone now. I will not allow it.”

“Oh, you won’t allow it?”

“No! I am your partner, Dean! I care about you and I will not let you risk your life like that.”

Castiel rarely looses his calm though now he can sense it slipping away from him. Dean must see it, too, for his eyes are wide as they blink at him from the other sun bed. 

“Jeez, Cas. Okay, I’ll sleep for a couple ‘o hours.”

“Six. At least.”

“What’s with you playing the mother hen all of a sudden? Didn’t hear you complain the last week and a half.”

“I did not think it was my place but I don’t care whether or not I have the right any more, Dean, because you sure as hell won’t be looking out for yourself.”

“I know what I’m capable of.”

“It’s not about being capable, Dean. It’s about giving your body the rest it needs and deserves. We’re safe for tonight. We have a great weapon. Let’s enjoy the reprieve while it lasts.”

“Is this some kinda code for pool sex?”

“No, Dean, it is not.”

“Too bad.”

They lapse into silence, broken only by shots that ring out miles away from them, near the fires lighting up the horizons. Castiel’s siblings are at work. From time to time he can see bright flashes like miniature lightning when a creature dies at the end of an angel blade. 

Castiel losses himself in thoughts like he fathoms Dean is doing as well, yet at one point when their beers are nearly empty again, Dean laughs, long, loud and completely unprovoked. 

“What’s so funny, Dean?”

“Ah, man,” the hunter sighs, holding his stomach as he catches his breath. “It’s just… to think all this crap started with a damn hunting trip.”

Castiel tilts his head, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I never told you? About how Sam and I ended up together?”

“All I know is that you went looking for your father and Sam decided against returning to school.”

“Yeah. Well, Dad had gone on a hunting trip and hadn’t been home in a few days, you know – long enough that I started to worry. One stupid little thing. If I hadn’t been so worried… I don’t know. Maybe Dad would’ve found Yellow Eyes eventually and ganked that son of a bitch. Maybe Sam’d be a big-shot lawyer now and I…”

Castiel makes an encouraging noise, unable to help his curiosity. 

“Maybe I’d’ve died at some point. I ain’t kidding when I say Sammy saved my ass more times than not. Or perhaps, if Dad had cashed in his vendetta, maybe we’d have settled down. I’d be a mechanic, probably.”

Many replies to that statement come to mind – that it was inevitable, that Dean would have ended up on Heaven’s radar, or in Hell forced to break the first seal… Yet when faced with the far-away look on Dean’s face, he cannot bring himself to shatter the illusion. 

So instead, he says, “I find the image of you covered in motor oil very appealing.”

That startles a chuckle out of the other man. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I have rarely glimpsed you while working on a car, however it was a sight to behold.”

“You’re impossible,” Dean chides, even though Castiel has no idea as to why he is apparently impossible, but he doesn’t mind if it means he receives such a languid kiss from Dean in return. 

It doesn’t take long until Castiel ends up on Dean’s chair, pressed close against the hunter with a hand splayed against his chest. For a while they just lie there, breathing the same air and basking in each other’s presence. 

“You know what my biggest regret is, Cas?” Dean asks then, his tone tinted in sadness. 

“What?” Dean hesitates. “Wait – is this a chick-flick moment?”

Another pause, then a brief nod. “Yeah, maybe, but roll with it, okay? Let’s say tonight don’t count, how ‘bout that?”

Castiel looks up into those vibrant green eyes, not even needing to thing about it. “Okay. Then tell me: what is your biggest regret?”

Even in the soft light Castiel can tell that Dean is blushing, a sight both adorable and sexy. 

“It’s that – and this night really don’t count, you hear me, Cas? No word of this to anyone, okay?”

“You have my word, Dean,” Castiel promises, half annoyed with his partner’s preoccupation with masculine stereotypes. 

“Thanks… well. It’s that I didn’t get my shit together sooner. I should’ve asked you out a long time ago and I was too chicken-shit to do it.”

“I have the same regret,” Castiel immediately replies. “I could have taken the first step as well.”

Dean smiles, placing a kiss on the tip of his knows. Castiel is not sure whether to find this endearing or ridiculous. 

“If I had another chance, that’s the one thing I’d do differently, Cas. Everything else, even the shitty parts, it all worked out in the end or it will once we kill Lucifer and free my brother’s soul. But you and me, man… We missed out on so much and I don’t care if that sounds selfish or bad or what-the-fuck-ever. But I can’t help that I wish I’d gotten my head outta my ass sooner.”

“At least we’re together now, Dean.”

“Shit, yeah. Together with a dude. Wanna bet my old man’s rolling in his grave as we speak?”

“Your father loved you deeply, Dean. I couldn’t predict his reaction but in the long run all that would have mattered to him is whether or not you’re happy, not the gender of the person you are with.”

Dean seems unconvinced and so utterly vulnerable. They haven’t spoken about John Winchester often and whenever they did, it was mostly just funny childhood stories, never the heavy stuff which Castiel is sure exists. The stuff that ensured that no one would hate Dean Winchester more than Dean hates himself. 

“I love you,” Castiel blurts out. 

Dean’s eyes widen and Castiel can feel his own expression mirror his partner’s, but only for the moment of surprise that his unplanned confession caused. 

Because Castiel means it. He never figured out the right moment so maybe this wasn’t chick-flick perfect as far as declarations are concerned, yet Castiel means every breath of it with every fiber of his being. So he reiterates.

“I love you, Dean Winchester. I don’t need you to say it back but I need you to know that I have loved you for a while and I will keep loving you for the rest of our lives and beyond, no matter what happens.”

“Shit… Cas…”

“I’m sorry this was too sappy. But-“

“No, Cas, I just… You really love me? It’s not just the sex?”

Castiel grins. “While the coitus is utterly enjoyable and might even be described as ‘mind-blowing’ on a regular basis, I would also love you if we never had consummated our relationship.”

“Cas. Never ever say ‘coitus’ again.”

“Why?”

“It’s just… Trust me on this. Don’t.”

“Alright.”

Dean doesn’t say anything else. The way he kisses Castiel then, with so many emotions pouring out of him that Castiel fears he might drown in them, conveys his thoughts more clearly than any words ever could. 

That night, under the clear July sky with the city of Washington burning in the distance, they make love as if they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. 

*

_All of your flaws and all of my flaws,_   
_When they have been exhumed_  
 _We’ll see that we need them to be who we are_  
 _Without them we’d be doomed_

_There’s a hole in my soul_  
 _I can’t fill it, I can’t fill it_  
 _There’s a hole in my soul,_   
_Can you fill it, can you fill it?_

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve_   
_And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground_   
_Dig them up, let’s finish what we’ve started_   
_Dig them up, so nothing’s left unturned_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My characters and I, we’re all such saps… But believe me, we will need this dose of fluff to survive the final two chapters.


End file.
